


A Lesson in Time

by Mo-Mouse (abyssmalDeath)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: 5 times Shiro messes things up (on accident), 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Underage Drinking, and 1 time he doesn't
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-05
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2020-01-05 00:11:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18354590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abyssmalDeath/pseuds/Mo-Mouse
Summary: “Shiro?” He questions, uncertainly. Shiro hesitates, and then he starts to lead Keith outside. Once they’re in the clear, with the cool night air nipping at their exposed, sweaty skin, Shiro takes his hands, fingers interlocking as his thumbs brush over the backs of his hands. He can’t get over how stunning the man looks in the moonlight, and he’s finding it hard to resist the urge to lean up and kiss him."I’m leaving, Keith.” Shiro’s words wash over him like an ice bath, though, and he freezes, trying to process what he’s just heard.





	A Lesson in Time

**Author's Note:**

> Yoooo okay so this is more to indulge myself than anything and it's not my standard writing style or even beta'd but I hope you guys enjoy it anyways if you decide to read it? If you wanna know, this is 5 times that Keith and Shiro almost Make It (but don't) and 1 time that they do. It's lame and cheesy and poorly written, but I needed it. There will be 5 other chapters at some point after this. Rating is set for later chapters.

The first time Keith officially meets Shiro is partway through his first semester as a freshman in highschool. The rest of the school is pumped up for the upcoming spirit week and homecoming game, but all Keith can think about is the impressive stack of algebra homework he has in his backpack. He was never one for school spirit to begin with, but the added factor of being a new kid in a new school put him off that much more. He could never quite grasp the appeal of a week dedicated to one’s school that finaled with a heavily chaperoned dance sporting a gaudy theme. _Masquerade_ , as all the posters and cheap flyers plastered to the creme tiled walls boasted for this year. 

He’s lost in his own thoughts of crafty ways to avoid the dance when he runs straight into a solid wall. Or, more accurately, a solid wall runs straight into him, effectively body-checking him into the row of lockers to his right. Pain lances through his arm and the side of his head, which unfortunately bore the brunt of impact, and he swears, cursing rather colorfully as he goes to swing at whoever just painfully bruised the right side of his body. He lands a solid hit against the attacker’s side, and he earns a gasped curse for his efforts.

“Get off me-- what the _fuck_?!” He spits, finally able to form words as the throbbing in his shoulder and head die down to a bearable roar. The offender finally straightens, hands fluttering nervously over Keith’s shoulders as if he means to steady him, albeit a few moments too late. The glare on Keith’s face must be particularly mean, because the other immediately starts to sputter out an apology.

“I-I’m so sorry, are you okay? I didn’t mean to-- I lost my footing and-- oh my God, I can’t believe I just did that.” He hides his face with one hand, a pink tinge coloring him from beneath his palm all the way up to the shock of white hair that hangs over his forehead. Keith is still reeling from the tackle, but he shakes his head, awkwardly patting the stranger’s hand where it lingers on his shoulder.

“I-- look, I’m fine, nothing’s broken, and I’m not bleeding out on the floor. I’m not sure whether or not to believe that you just lost your footing, since I’m pretty sure I just became a tackle dummy, but I’m willing to forgive and forget.” He tenderly prods at his shoulder, wincing a little at the pain that flares up from his poking. That was _definitely_ going to leave a decent-sized bruise. The man in front of him sucks some air in through his teeth, grimacing for a moment before his expression turns entirely sheepish. 

“I...may or may not have been running. Well, sprinting, really. I’m late for football practice, and my bag hit the back of my knee.” He adjusts his shoulder-slung bag to make a point, and Keith raises an eyebrow. He really might as well have become a tackle dummy, then. He waves his hand, dismissing the other’s worried look.

“Like I said, I’m fine. Just-- be careful when you’re running? And if you tackle like that all the time, you’ll probably have a scholarship in your near future.” He offers a small, awkward grin. The other seems to brighten at that, and he drops his hand from where it’s resting on Keith’s shoulder.

“Right, okay. See ya around!” He throws an enthusiastic wave over his shoulder before he takes off running down the hallway again, and Keith can’t help but to stare after him. He couldn’t deny that the sight of all those well-defined muscles working in tandem with each other stirred something within him, but he was quick to file those thoughts away for later examination. For now, he straightens his bookbag and continues on his path home to try and complete some of his math homework.

“So, wait, he just straight up _tackled_ you?! And you didn’t beat him up.” Pidge is staring up at him from his laptop screen in disbelief, and Keith rolls his eyes a little, tapping his pencil on his notebook. 

“It was an honest mistake on his part. He tripped.” Keith shrugs a little, turning the page in his math book to start on the next problem. He hears Pidge snort, and he doesn’t have to look to know she’s shaking her head at him. She’s quiet for a moment, though, and he chances a glance. She’s giving him one of her looks, and he knows what she’s going to say before the words even come through his speakers.

“You have a crush on him. That’s the only logical excuse for you not beating the snot out of him. Was he _that_ cute? He took you out, and not even in a good way!” She throws her hands up, and Keith has to resist the urge to slam his laptop shut to prevent her from seeing the red that blooms across his face.

“What does that have to do with anything? It’s only my first semester here, Pidge. I don’t want to get kicked out yet.” He rubs the bridge of his nose, wanting to end this conversation now. His goal was to get through school in one piece, and he knew from first hand experience that chasing after someone was the quickest way to derail his progress. He shakes the thoughts out of his head, closing his notebook. No way was he going to be able to finish his homework now. 

“Whatever you say, Keith. Look, I gotta go, Matt’s being a big baby about me hogging all the bandwidth again and if I have to hear how he can’t raid with his clan one more time, I’m gonna destroy his computer with my two bare hands. I’ll talk to you later. Oh, and try to behave.” She grins, ending the call before Keith can come up with a retort. He makes a frustrated noise, slamming his laptop shut and setting it aside before he rubs his face. Why was he getting so worked up over it anyways? Who cared if he had a crush? As he puts his homework away and starts getting ready for bed, he realizes that _he_ cares, and too much for his liking. Hopefully, that was all the interaction he was going to have with the stranger, and he could get on with his life.

\----------

“Is this seat taken?” An unsettlingly familiar voice speaks just loud enough for Keith to hear through his headphones, and he wonders who the hell would have the audacity to try and talk to him while he has his headphones in, until he looks up. The football player that had forcibly acquainted him with the lockers outside the science rooms on accident a few days ago was staring down at him inquisitively, motioning to the empty seat next to him at the lunch table. It takes his brain a few moments to process that he had, in fact, been asked a question, and a few more moments to formulate an appropriate answer.

“I...guess not?” He responds, moving the pile of textbooks and notebooks onto the floor before the athlete gives him a relieved grin and sits next to him, tray of questionable lunch food plopping down in front of him.

“I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself properly the last time we met. I’m Takashi Shirogane, but mostly everyone just calls me Shiro.” He rips off a piece of bread roll and stuffs it into his mouth and, for whatever questionable reason, Keith compares his personality to that of an over-excited puppy. 

“Uh, hi. I’m...Keith.” He pokes at his cold bowl of spaghetti, shifting a little in his seat. Why did Shiro want to sit with him? Keith had sat in the same place every day since the start of school, and it wasn’t like he ever moved. He’d been invisible, all up until the incident. He’d never even seen Shiro around the school, now that he thought about it, but he supposed that made sense. They were from vastly different walks of life. 

“Well, it’s nice to officially meet you, Keith.” Shiro grins, and Keith feels the faint blush that spreads across the bridge of his nose and the tops of his cheeks. He turns his head away, hoping that Shiro doesn’t catch it. If he does, he at least has the decency not to say anything about it. 

“Nice to meet you, too. Or, atleast, put a face to the name.” He trails off a little, rubbing the back of his neck. Shiro chuckles, nodding his head in agreement before he takes a bite out of whatever the school is trying to pass for edible lunch. Keith turns back to his own lunch, happy to eat in silence until Shiro speaks up again. He can tell he’s nervous, just by the energy he gives off when he opens his mouth to say something.

“Hey, uh, are you going to the dance next weekend? It’s the homecoming game, and I’m kind of obligated to be there since I’m on the football team and all, but I thought that it’d be nice to have someone friendly there as well? Not that the team isn’t friendly! I just-- uh-- yeah, are you going?” Shiro stutters, and Keith finds it endearing how flustered the other is over talking to him. He’s about to provide some lame excuse as to why he’s not going when he catches movement from behind Shiro. When he leans to get a better look, he sees the rest of the football team, making crude gestures and making fun of the two of them. He stands up abruptly, gathering up his books before he does his best to glare down at Shiro. 

“Look, do yourself a favor and leave me alone, all right? You won’t gain anything by trying to be my friend and I already forgave you for the locker incident. Just-- just leave me alone.” He storms off, trying to pretend that the brief flash of hurt across Shiro’s face doesn’t bother him. It concerns him just how much it really does. Still, he knew he was doing the right thing. Shiro would only end up outcasted from the football team if he tried to get close to Keith, and he wasn’t about to let him self-sacrifice for something as measly as Keith’s friendship. It just wouldn’t be right. He was going to have a long, drawn out conversation about the events that just took place with Pidge when he got home. As much as she loved to tease him, she was also stellar at giving sort of decent advice when he really needed it.

“So, he was asking you about the dance, and you just blew him off? All because of the football team?” Pidge frowns a little, concern apparent on her face. Keith is sitting in his kitchen, back against the cupboards as he sips on one of his mother’s fruity wine coolers. He shrugs, tilting his head back as he takes another satisfying drink. 

“He’s part of the football team, Pidge. If he tries to hang out with me and be all buddy buddy with me, he’s going to lose the respect of the team and I’m not about to be responsible for ruining his high school dream.” He clicks tongue, setting the empty bottle next to him. He hears Pidge sigh, and he knows she’s about to say something that he doesn’t want to hear, even if he needs to.

“He’s his own person, Keith. You can’t always shut people out. If he wants to get to know you, let him. Maybe tell him why it’s a bad idea, but let him make that decision for himself. It’s not healthy for you to keep locking everything away. You need to go to bed, or you’re going to regret staying up so late in the morning. Take care, Keith, and think about what I said, all right?” She gives him a meaningful look before the screen goes black and Keith sighs, thumping his head back against the cabinet. Pidge was right. He was going to hate himself in the morning. Despite knowing this, Keith gets up anyways and pulls his jacket and shoes on before he leaves his house quietly, hands tucked deep in his pockets as he walks aimlessly. 

His house was tucked in the back of a little cul-de-sac that was close to a park. Whenever he was upset or needed time to himself, he always found himself wandering towards that little park. Tonight was no different. There was just enough chill in the air for Keith to find comfort in pulling up the collar of his jacket a little, hands tucked deep in his pockets. He starts walking his usual route, gaze turning up to the sky as he pondered Pidge’s earlier words. He knew she was right. That he should just tell Shiro if he wants to hang out with him he’ll likely be ousted from the football team and let him decide, but he had a gut feeling that Shiro wouldn’t care. He rounds the bend to start down the path to the lake when he hears muffled voices followed laughter. He hated how easily he could pick out Shiro’s voice.

“Hey, pass me another beer?” His words are a little slurred, and Keith can tell he’s probably had more than enough to drink, but the unmistakable _crack_ of a new can being opened breaks the near-silence, and he shakes his head a little in disbelief. He hadn’t exactly pegged Shiro as the kind of guy to break curfew and partake in underage drinking, but he guessed it wasn’t fair to judge a book by his cover. Having lingered long enough, Keith turns to head down another path.

“Hey, look who it is! Kogane! You frequent these parts much?” Another slurred voice stops him in his tracks. It wasn’t Shiro’s, but he recognized one of the other football members who’d made it a point to give him hell. He hunches his shoulders a little further, grimacing as he glances over at the group. He could barely make them out, even in the full moonlight. 

“Funny enough, I sure do. Sorry for stumbling in on your weird faux frat party or whatever. I’ll just be on my way.” He turns to walk away, but a hand grabs his wrist, and he jerks a little at the sudden contact. Somehow, he doesn’t have to look to know it’s Shiro.

“Keith! Hi. You should stay a while!” He can smell the alcohol on Shiro’s breath from here, and he wrinkles his nose a little, not missing the awkward air that surrounded the other three footballers behind him. 

“I can’t. I told you earlier that you should stay away from me. The football players don’t exactly like me and if you try to be friends with me, they’ll hate you too.” He tries to keep his voice down, but he still hears an amused snort from behind them. He decidedly ignores it in favor of trying to catch even a hint of Shiro’s expression since he’s being uncomfortably silent. 

“Who cares, Keith? Go to the dance with me, let me sit with you at lunch, I don’t _care_ what the rest of the team thinks. I think you’re cute and interesting and I’d like to get to know what hides under that mysterious exterior.” His hand comes up to cup Keith’s cheek, and he can’t do anything but stare dumbfounded as he does so. He’s about to respond when he hears scoffing from behind Shiro.

“Gross. I knew he was a flake. Let’s go, dude.” There’s some shuffling, and Keith inhales a bit. 

“Shiro, they’re gonna tell the whole school what you said. Do you have any idea what you just did?” He asks, a bit incredulous. Shiro gives a meek shrug, chuckling a little as he pulls Keith into a too-tight hug.

“I was honest, and that’s all that’s important to me. Come on, Keith. The damage is done. Go to the dance with me. Please?” Shiro’s tone is so damn persuasive, and Keith can’t bring himself to say no. 

One week later, after all the crazy antics and hectic bustling of spirit week, Keith isn’t quite sure how he found himself fidgeting in front of the school as music pounded out through the open gym doors. He was in a sleek black suit, accented with scarlet on his tie and vest, and an ornate fox max covered the top half of his face. He nearly jumps out of his skin when he feels a tap on his shoulder, whirling around and eyes widening a little at what he sees. Shiro is standing there, dressed in a crisp white suit accented with black, and his mask of choice was modeled after a wolf. It takes Keith a moment to remember how to breathe, and by the time he does, Shiro is already guiding him towards the entrance with a hand on his lower back.

“You look stunning.” Shiro’s voice is just barely loud enough to be heard above the music, and Keith finds himself smiling a little despite himself. 

“You’re not half bad yourself.” He teases, nudging him lightly with is elbow. Shiro chuckles, dragging him off to the side of the main crowd to get their pictures taken. He can feel eyes on them, but he finds he doesn’t care. The night progresses, they dance a little, and then a slow song comes on. Keith gives Shiro an uncertain look, but the football player is already leading him back onto the floor, resting his hands on his waist and holding him close. He hesitates for half a moment before he wraps his arms around Shiro’s neck, relaxing into him. He could get lost in this moment, and he nearly does, lifting his head to stare straight into Shiro’s eyes. Instinctually, he leans up, and just as his lips are about to brush Shiro’s, he stops him, gently pushing him back a bit. He looks guilty, and something nervous flashes through Keith. 

“Shiro?” He questions, uncertainly. Shiro hesitates, and then he starts to lead Keith outside. Once they’re in the clear, with the cool night air nipping at their exposed, sweaty skin, Shiro takes his hands, fingers interlocking as his thumbs brush over the backs of his hands. He can’t get over how stunning the man looks in the moonlight, and he’s finding it hard to resist the urge to lean up and kiss him. 

“I’m leaving, Keith.” Shiro’s words wash over him like an ice bath, though, and he freezes, trying to process what he’s just heard. 

“I’m sorry, what?” He swallows against the lump that tries to form. Maybe he’d misunderstood him. Maybe he just meant the dance. Maybe--

“I’m going back home after this semester. My grandpa is really sick, and my mom wants us to be closer to the family. I wanted to tell you sooner, but nothing was set in stone. I’m sorry.” His voice catches a little, and that’s all it takes. Keith pulls his hands free like he’s been burned, taking a few steps back. He’s being irrational, he knows this, but he still can’t help the surge of anger that fills him.

“You knew? You knew this whole time you were leaving and you still--don’t touch me, Shiro, please.” He knocks Shiro’s hand away when it reaches out for him, and he can still see the flash of hurt in Shiro’s eyes despite the mask that’s blocking his face. He shakes his head in disbelief, pulling his own mask off so that he can run his fingers through his hair. “Just-- just leave me alone.” He turns, briskly walking away and ignoring the way Shiro calls after him, trying to offer up menial solutions to the fact that he’s leaving and Keith may or may not ever see him again. He knew it was too good to be true, that someone who loved him wouldn’t end up sticking around. That night, he ignores even Pidge’s calls, curled up on his bed after tearing off his suit and haphazardly boxing it up to return to the rental place. He couldn’t believe he’d let himself think that this was going to end well. 

The next time Keith meets Shiro, it’s five years after the night Shiro revealed he was leaving, and Keith doesn’t recognize him.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this! Please, feel free to follow me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/momouse6) for WIPs, rambles, and more!! I promise I'm friendly and don't bite!


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